I Always Walk Alone
by Patchfire
Summary: One-shot future fic. Harry walks alone, because he still has a job to do, and everyone has gone before him. Sad, sappy, some slash, some het, death. Did I mention sad?


_This is a prime example of why you shouldn't stay up late writing fan fiction when you're in a sad, angsty mood. You turn out things like this. Sappy, sad, and full of cliche. Still, at 4:20 AM, I think it's decent. Hmm... Harry/Draco ship, Ron/Hermione, other minor ships, loads o' death. Time frame: sometime around 2220? I think.  
  
Disclaimer: Harry and friends belong to the wonderful J.K. Rowling._  
  
  
  
The elderly gentleman stepped out of the old brownstone and locked the door behind him. Dawn was breaking over the hill to the east, and the paper boy was just approaching. He smiled, appreciative that in such a futuristic time, the paper boy still delivered from a bicycle.  
  
Good morning, Mr. Potter! the boy called, waving as he threw the _London Times_ at Harry's feet. Harry smiled and returned the greeting. For nearly a hundred years, he had been moving from neighborhood to neighborhood in London, alternating between two different last names, so that the Muggles wouldn't be suspicious of his long life.   
  
His moves weren't entirely random, either; Natalie McDonald's youngest daughter was Headmistress at Hogwarts, and she would send him two or three neighborhoods to choose from when it was time to move. The neighborhoods were always well-populated with children, and always had at least one or two Muggle-borns that would be getting owls and acceptance letters the summer of the year they turned eleven. When that happened, the kindly elderly gentleman from down the street would turn up at their door, and help the new student, and their family, to make that transition.  
  
Those children, he still kept in touch with, although in the beginning, it had been two elderly gentlemen who made the trek, and two gentlemen who wrote to their' kids at Hogwarts. Not anymore. Not for fifty years.  
  
Harry walked down the street, restless in the early light. This time of day always reminded him of dawn Quidditch practises. When he had been appointed Quidditch captain in his fifth year, he had continued Oliver Wood's tradition of early rising and hard work. It had paid off, and Gryffindor had won the Cup each of his remaining three years – and he had trained Natalie McDonald, three years behind him, well. The Cup remained in Gryffindor hands for another three years, before they lost it to Ravenclaw the year after Natalie left.  
  
Well. It wouldn't do to dwell on old memories. It was summer, and the paper boy, who had just turned eleven, would be getting his owl today. His next door neighbor, too, would be getting one, but hers wouldn't appear for another year. Harry needed to complete his walk, then return home to gather a few books and supplies that he typically took with him. He remembered how much he had appreciated Hagrid's guidance, and how much fun it had been, taking Ron and Hermione's children. A shadow crossed his face. Ron and Hermione. Over two hundred twenty-five years later, and the thought still caused him pain. Their deaths had been so pointless. Peter Pettigrew had escaped from Azkaban and managed to repeat the Massacre of 1981, and Ron and Hermione had been there, celebrating their twentieth wedding anniversary together. In an instant, Harry's best friends had been ripped from him, and he and Draco had abruptly shifted their rather decadent lifestyle down into family gear.   
  
Harry returned to his home, and grabbed two parcels from the table in the hall. A soft hoot greeted him. Hello, Hedwig, he said softly, thanking Merlin once more that Hedwig had, unbeknownst to him, bound her lifeforce with Harry's, so that he would always have one companion. I'll be needing you later, but I think I should break things to the Pattersons gently first. Another soft hoot. Harry smiled and closed his front door once more, setting down the sidewalk purposefully.  
  
Ah, there it was, Number 18, Dunes Circle, just a street over from Harry's own place. He noticed that David's bike was back in place. Harry took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and knocked on the door.  
  
A neatly dressed woman came to the door, obviously prepared to go out for a meeting or some other business affair.   
  
Harry smiled. I'm dreadfully sorry to intrude on such a happy occasion, but I understand that David received an letter via owl post this morning?  
  
The woman's eyes widened. Yes, yes. The letter said someone would be coming to explain a few things. Are you that someone?  
  
Harry chuckled. Although you probably just know me as that lonely old man one street over, I am in fact a wizard. Harry Potter at your service, ma'am.  
  
Melinda Patterson. Come in, let me introduce you to my husband. She led Harry through the entryway into a cozy kitchen, where David and an older version of him were consuming large quantities of bacon and eggs. Jacob, this is Harry Potter. He's the one the letter mentioned.  
  
David was the first to look up, however. Blimey! Mr. Potter!  
  
Hello, David. Pleased to meet you, Jacob.  
  
The man smiled and shook his hand. Same here. I'm quite pleased that you're so prompt.  
  
Harry laughed again. Ah, why do you think I always walk alone? I move every twenty years or so, with the sole purpose of easing the transition for a Muggle-born or two.  
  
David piped up.  
  
Non-magic folk. Don't worry, I was nearly as confused as you, David. Even though my parents were magic, I was raised by my Muggle aunt and uncle.  
  
David's eyes were shining. So it's... it's all _true_ then? Witches and wizards and wands and cauldrons?  
  
Harry nodded and pulled out his own wand. Holly, with a phoenix feather core. He held it out to the young boy. Careful now, he admonished gently. That wand's got to go into a museum once I die, you know.  
  
asked David, eyes wide.  
  
Why? Why, it's famous, lad. A famous wand.  
  
Melinda smiled at the older gentleman. Why do I suspect our Mr. Potter is hiding some fame of his own?  
  
Harry grinned wryly. Indeed. I'll tell my story in a moment. First, let me give you these, he said hefting the two parcels of books. Now, Melinda, Jacob, this parcel is for you. It's got a basic guide to the wizarding world. A dear friend of mine penned the first edition for her own parents. Her granddaughter keeps the updates now. Harry tried not to let pain show on his face as he turned to David. _This_ batch of books is for you. We'll be getting your schoolbooks later on, but I thought you'd like a little bit of background before you get to Hogwarts. This is _Hogwarts, A History. _I only ever knew of two people who read it completely, but they were both very dear to me, so I include it. This second book is much condensed version of the _History_, and a guide as well. My husband wrote it, before his death, frustrated at the lack of material to give Muggle-borns. It talks about Diagon Alley, Quidditch, getting on the Platform for the Hogwarts Express, wizarding sweets – that elicited a grin from the boy – the Sorting Ceremony, and the four Houses, as well as few other topics. Now, shall we talk about me, loath as I am to tell my story?  
  
The others smiled gently, wondering how old the man was. Mr. Potter, Jacob began, but was interrupted.  
  
Please, call me Harry, he smiled. I much prefer it.  
  
Harry, then. What you said earlier – do you mean that you moved to this neighborhood solely for this day, for David?  
  
Oh, no, not solely for today, and there is a future witch nearby as well. But I will be available for any questions you or your wife have, throughout David's seven years at Hogwarts. I hope that David will correspond with me, and I'll be available to help with summer homework as well. I still keep in contact with many of my children', even though some of them now have grandchildren attending Hogwarts!  
  
The Pattersons laughed gently, and Harry settled down into a easy chair. My story begins in 1980. The Pattersons gasped. Yes, I really am that old, although I suppose the story begins before that, even. There was an evil wizard, who called himself Voldemort, who first began rising to power in 1970. My parents were among those working against him, so much so that they went into hiding, with me, in 1981. Their location was betrayed however, and Voldemort came to their house, casting the killing curse on my father, then my mother. When he turned to cast it on me, however... something didn't work correctly. The spell backfired, draining him of nearly all his powers and almost killing him. It reduced him to a spirit. I was left with a lightning-shaped cut on my forehead, but was otherwise unharmed. David peered at the man, and saw the faint lines of a scar that was famous. For complicated reasons, I was sent to my mother's sister to be raised. Muggles, as I said before. I knew nothing about Hogwarts, or wizards, until my eleventh birthday. Hagrid, the groundskeeper, had to deliver the letter to me personally. My aunt and uncle detested magic, but I went to Hogwarts, where I found out that I was famous. I was, indeed, the Boy Who Lived, the one who had beaten back Voldemort in our darkest hour. Harry smiled sardonically. The title still annoyed him, all those years later. I was Sorted into Gryffindor House, and made two great friends, and one great rival, my first year. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger and I became known as the Dream Team' for our exploits. My rival was Draco Malfoy, a Slytherin. Harry closed his eyes briefly. He and Draco had caused so much pain to each other for the first four years of school, and then had ignored each other for another year and a half. Time wasted, Harry thought bitterly. Time wasted. That first year, Voldemort's spirit inhabited my Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and I fought him. Each year, it seemed like there was some new adventure. Voldemort's school diary, possessed, causing an innocent girl to release a monster. Ron's little sister, Ginny, actually. That experience led to her becoming a great Auror. Third year, my godfather escaped from Azkaban, and at the end of the year, we finally discovered his innocence, although he remained on the run for three more years. Fourth year, Harry sighed heavily. Cedric's death, long years ago though it was, still caused him pain. Fourth year, I was involved in something known as the Tri-Wizard Tournament. It was a set-up from the beginning, culminating in my being transported to a graveyard where Voldemort and Wormtail, the man who betrayed my parents, waited. There Voldemort used my blood as part of a potion to resurrect his body. There he forced me to duel, and there we learned that his wand and mine are brothers, and we were unable to duel in the traditional way. There was another student transported with me, and he was killed. His eyes closed in memory. Cedric Diggory. Remember Cedric Diggory, he whispered softly. After that, Voldemort began his rise to power again, and my last three years of school were like a double life. Half of the time, I was Harry Potter, student at Hogwarts, Quidditch Captain, and Prefect. The rest of the time, I was Harry Potter, Weapon in Training. Harry smiled. Ron and Mione finally started dating during our fifth year. My... rival, Draco Malfoy, became more subdued. His father was a follower of Voldemort, but we discovered that he was not. We became friends, after a fashion, and then he and I became lovers. He raised his head. We were together for nearly two hundred years. He's been gone fifty years now, and I still can't believe that he's not beside me when I wake up every morning. How I survived the first sixteen years of my life without him, I don't know. We were, and still are, soulmates, in every sense of the word. He's just waiting for me to finish whatever it is I'm supposed to do before I can join him. A deep breath. Back to my story. I defeated Voldemort the summer after my seventh year at Hogwarts. Draco and I both played professional Quidditch. Ron and Hermione got married, started having babies. Then, on their twentieth anniversary, Wormtail escaped and blew up a street in Diagon Alley. They were among the dead, and Draco and I suddenly found ourselves parents of five active redheads. He smiled. Ron had five brothers and one sister, and when you go to Diagon Alley even now, there are Weasleys and Weasley relations nearly everywhere. They are a wonderful, wonderful clan. We had peace after that for many years, and Draco and I began our practise of moving from Muggle neighborhood to Muggle neighborhood. The Marriage Act passed in, what, 2040? and we were one of the first couples married under it. Another evil wizard arose when we were past one hundred, but wouldn't you know, they asked Draco and I to deal with him as well? Well, we did, and the next one to come along as well. Draco was injured with that one, though, and those injuries ultimately killed him. He was stubborn, though, Slytherin pride and all that. Wouldn't let them win for nearly twenty years! Now, we've had peace for quite a long time. Something tells me it won't last this time neither. He turned and looked at David. David Patterson, I think your generation will have to fight another evil wizard. Not soon. It will be when your children are at Hogwarts. But I'm the last one left that fought Voldemort. All the others are gone, now. Ginny, the rest of the Weasleys, even the younger students at Hogwarts. They've relied on me to lead them through these last two dark times. I know, though, that I won't be around for this one. I've got to find someone to pass the knowledge on to, and you're going to be one of them, I think. Sometimes I have the Sight, much as it pains me to admit it, and you, David, have a role to play.  
  
The boy's eyes were wide. Whoa. But I always thought I'd be an MP or something!  
  
Ah, a Slytherin, then, Harry's eyes lit up. Good for you. Maybe you can be Minister of Magic.  
  
Were you ever Minister of Magic, Mr. Potter? he asked, enraptured.  
  
Harry grinned, his face losing the years with that gesture. No, but my husband was, for nearly fifty years. He retired when we started doing the Muggle neighborhood thing. Harry's voice was full of pride. He was the best Minister we ever had. If you could live up to his legacy, David, that would be something to be proud of. Harry's eyes were shining with unshed tears. Now. Also in that parcel is the series of books that someone contrived to write about my life, all seven years at Hogwarts, plus a bit of an epilogue about the post-Hogwarts years, so if you want more detail, let me know. Harry stood. I always visit Diagon Alley on July 31st, my birthday, but it's not a good day for shopping. Is a week from Saturday good for all of you? The Pattersons nodded.  
  
Mr. Potter? David's curiosity was engaged. Could... could I go with you? On the 31st? Just to look around?  
  
Harry nodded. Certainly. I'll be round tomorrow to pick you up, then.  
  
  
  
  
  
The next day, Harry led his young charge into the Leaky Cauldron. Now, I should warn you, I have to do some official business and things, so I asked some friends of mine to come and keep track of you. Harry scanned the room, then his eyes lit up as they rested on Ron's great-great-great-granddaughter. he called, and she turned, her brood's heads swiveling as well. She was remarkably like Molly Weasley, her namesake, but this Molly was, remarkably, in a twist that always made Harry smile, a Malfoy. Lucius' younger brother had sired a single son, and the Malfoy name, cleansed by Draco, was carried on with pride.  
  
Gramps! It's good to see you, you old layabout. And who is this?  
  
This is David Patterson. David, this is Molly Malfoy and her children.  
  
the boy questioned. Is that...  
  
Yes, it is, Harry chuckled. Smart boy. Molly is Ron and Hermione's great-great-great-granddaughter, and she's married to the great-great-great-great-grandson of Draco's uncle.  
  
David's eyes were round.  
  
Well, I had best be off to take care of my duties today. Molly, isn't one of yours starting this year?  
  
Oh, yes. Colin! Come meet David!  
  
Harry shook his head and wandered away. Among many of the wizarding families, even now, certain names popped up frequently. Colin, Arthur, Seamus, Terry, Ron, even Severus, for boys. There were few Harrys; he had made them promise to wait until he was dead. There were, likewise, no Dracos, because it was well-known that Harry Potter had said at Draco's funeral that it was an unique and wonderful name for an unique and wonderful man. The implicit message had been clear.  
  
Girls names, there were lots of Hermiones and Ginnys and Virginias, of course, but also Minervas, Lavenders, and Chos. Harry left the Leaky Cauldron and entered Diagon Alley. He paused at the large memorial that had been erected for the victims of Voldemort's Reign. He passed by the stones that held the names of his grandparents, both sets, and Sirius's parents. Then he stopped. Hello, Mum, Dad. Not too much longer before I can join you. Just ten more years, maybe, he murmured, then he moved on. There were two blank stones, and then they began again, thirteen years after they stopped. He touched Cedric's name, and stared blankly at others. Lavender and Seamus, their names inscribed without a last name; their story was famous, each giving their life for the other, and saving hundreds of others at the same time. The last stones on the memorial were for Ron and Hermione and the others that died in Wormtail's escape effort. Harry took a deep breath and continued forward to Diagon Alley. It was his birthday, after all, and the people wanted to celebrate with him. His first stop, as always, was Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.  
  
He entered the shop quietly, and a small girl approached him cautiously. Can I h'lp you, sir? she asked quietly. Harry peered at her, then recognised her with a start.  
  
Is that you, Lily Ann? You've grown.  
  
The last offspring of Fred Weasley's line nodded solemnly. I wasn't recognising you either, Gramps.  
  
Harry smiled and gathered the young girl into his arms. It's good to see you. Is your Mum or Dad around?  
  
She nodded. Mummy! Daddy! Gramps is here!  
  
A smiling young witch came out of the back and embraced Harry. She had been one of his' kids actually, not too long ago now. Harry had inadvertently introduced her to her husband, Fred Five. Fred Five came out as well. Hello Gramps! How's the brownstone? Need any Wheezes?  
  
Harry smiled. Just the same one I need every year, you know that, Five.  
  
One Canary Cream, coming right up. Is it going to be Nev again or his brother?  
  
Harry answered with a smile. Definitely Algie. Aren't you glad you have me around to remind you that you are, in fact, related to Nev and Algie?  
  
Don't remind me! Fred Five was obviously joking, but the exaggerated look of horror on his face was enough to send his wife and daughter into peals of laughter. I would have thought our however-many-greats-aunt Ginny wouldn't have married someone with such a clumsiness gene, if she was as smart as you say she was.  
  
'Course she was smart, Harry answered. She had a crush on me when she was 11, that's smart, isn't it? The two young people laughed. The thought of Harry Potter _not_ being with Draco Malfoy was incomprehensible to all living wizards and witches. Well, I'm off to make my two obligatory stops. Harry smiled sadly as he left the shop. I'll see you at the private party tonight?  
  
Private was a misnomer. Any descendant of the Weasley family – Charlie's little girl, Alma, orphaned before she was born, and her children; Percy and Oliver's adopted sons; George's three sets of twins (Angelina had been an admirable woman, Harry thought once again); all of them had passed on as well, but their descendants were still living. Likewise, Dean Thomas's son and his children came, as did any of the Malfoys, and the Patils. The end result was somewhere over two hundred and fifty people, and Harry stopped counting after that point.   
  
Wouldn't miss it, Five answered cheerfully.  
  
Harry walked, alone again, to Quality Quidditch Supplies, and stepped in. He had a routine. He signed copies of _Quidditch Through the Ages_, and they were available only to Hogwarts students. He would actually meet with the members of the House Quidditch Teams, but the captains of Gryffindor and Slytherin, as well as their Seekers, if they were different, got special treatment. As Draco had said, what was the point in being a bloody hero if you couldn't take advantage of the situation. So, each year, those four (although sometimes it was only two, or three) students were invited to have ice cream with Harry Potter, and Quidditch ruled the conversation. He gave tips, listened, and generally went back in time.  
  
After Quidditch, Flourish and Blotts. Hermione's favorite store. There, he simply went over the section that housed everything about the war, as well as titles by the survivors and soldiers. He fingered the titles. Hermione's guide to the magical world. Draco's labor of love for his and Harry's Muggle-borns. The half-finished training manual for Aurors that Ron had been working on, published posthumously. Draco's autobiography, and the biography he had pestered Harry into letting him write. Each year, it was the same. He would pick one book, of them all, sign it, and it would be auctioned off, all money divided evenly between Hogwarts School and the Malfoy-Potter Childrens Foundation. They established it so no other wizarding child would ever have to be left with Muggles. It worked, too, proven through one hundred and fifty proud years. What book today? Harry was in a pensive mood. There. He saw it. It wasn't well-known; it was surprising that they even stocked a copy, much less in this section. Still, it had be that one, today. _The Greatest Thing You Will Ever Learn_. Draco had penned the short book while he was still Minister; it was about love, trust, and how evil never won as long as there were beautiful things and beautiful people, made beautiful from the inside. It had so many hidden messages to Harry inside it. Harry pulled the book off the shelf and carried it to the front of the store, where he picked up a quill. No one used the old quills anymore, it seemed; they were all self-inking and charmed. Harry still used quills that required ink pots. He had earned his idiosyncrasies, he figured. Dipping the nib into the green ink, he closed his eyes, pretending for a moment that he could hear Draco behind him, feel Draco's breath on his neck. We'll always be together, love, because we know that beauty is about the inside, and we'll always trust one another. I feel like I just wrote a love letter to be published, it's just so me and you, Harry. Just so me and you. Harry sighed, and a single tear slipped from his eye. He signed the book with a flourish. _Harry Potter. Heed the words well_.  
  
Then he left the store, and headed for the public celebration. Time enough to cry when he got home that evening.  
  
  
And cry he did. Fifty-one birthdays without his Draco, and he still had to guide David Patterson and the young witch next door through their years at Hogwarts, prepare David and some others to pick up the knowledge that existed only in Harry's head. He couldn't leave his world undefended; he had worn the mantle for too long not to be conscious of its weight, and its importance. Knowledge, skills, had to be passed on. Still so much work to be done. So much work to be done before he could lay down his burden, and his name could be carved in stone, and given to young baby boys.  
  
  
  
  
  
The young man stepped forward solemnly, and cleared his throat. We are here today not to mourn, but to celebrate. Today, we celebrate the fact that an esteemed wizard and friend finally got to join his soulmate, his parents, his best friends, and all of his peers. We celebrate both the life _and_ death of Harry Potter.  
  
  
David Patterson sat back down and let out a shaky breath. Harry Potter had been his mentor from the time he had received his Hogwarts letter nine years previously. After David's first year, he had returned home to find Harry with a list of extra reading and permission to use magic over the holidays. By the time David entered his third year, he was ready to take his O.W.L.s, which was what Harry had been aiming for the entire time. The other four were all older than David, and Harry had needed David to catch up to the others. There had been himself, from Slytherin, and one student each from the other three Houses, and then, Rachel. Rachel whom the Sorting Hat could not sort. Harry had looked into her bloodlines and found the problem'. She had Malfoy blood, and Weasley blood, as well Boot blood and Abbott blood. All four Houses, running through her veins. She took classes with all Houses, and rotated what common rooms she stayed in, while her dorms were separate. Harry empathized with the girl, and she was, indeed, the perfect addition to the group.  
  
Now, Harry was dead. He had been more chipper than David ever remembered seeing him, and old Professor Creevey, who was the granddaughter of Natalie McDonald, who had been Quidditch Captain just after Harry, said he hadn't been that happy since Draco was alive. For two or three months, his mood had steadily improved, and then he called the five to his rooms one morning. In the waning days of his life, Harry had forsaken his Muggle household and returned to his first true home – Hogwarts.  
  
He had smiled broadly at them. You are ready. You will teach others, and you will meet the threats that come and defeat them. Never again will it all reside in one person; you five will make sure of that. I'm so proud of you. He had paused, taken a deep breath. I'm dying. Today. I know it. I feel Draco waiting for me, and Ron, Hermione, Sirius, my mum and dad. Ron and Hermione's kids, all my peers. He had looked up, crying and smiling at the same time. It's been two hundred and thirty years since I've seen my best friends. Sixty since I've seen my soulmate, my husband. Even longer since I've seen some of my school chums. And I don't even remember my parents. But it's today. Today, you lot. I'm going to see them all. Dumbledore. Remus. Dean. Parvati. Snape. I'll even be happy to see Trelawney. Don't cry for me. I just have these last instructions. And he had instructed them on what to say and do at his funeral.  
  
  
Rachel walked forward. Harry asked me to sing a song for all of you. It took some searching; it's a Muggle song, and it's before _his_ time. Laughter. It's called Beyond the Sea', and I think you'll understand why Harry picked this song when you hear it.  
  
She waved her wand, and the music started to play across the large amphitheatre. Somewhere beyond the sea, somewhere waitin' for me. My lover stands on golden sands and watches the ships that go sailing. Somewhere beyond the sea he's there watching for me. If I could fly like birds on high then straight to his arms I'd go sailing. It's far beyond the stars, it's near beyond the moon. I know beyond a doubt my heart will lead me there soon. We'll meet beyond the shore, we'll kiss just as before. Happy we'll be beyond the sea and never again I'll go sailing. I know beyond a doubt my heart will lead me there soon. We'll meet, I'll know we'll meet, beyond the shore, we'll kiss just as before. Happy we'll be beyond the sea and never again I'll go sailing. No more sailing. So long sailing. Bye bye sailing. Her voice trailed off, and tears ran down her face. Good-bye Harry. I know you're happy to be with your loved ones once more.  
  
  
A smiling Harry Potter looked out on the gathering. Merlin, but it's embarrassing.  
  
Love, you did so much for so many people, of course your memorial service was going to be grandiose.  
  
The two men turned and walked back towards a group of waiting spirits. A ghostly white owl floated in and rested on Harry's shoulder opposite Draco. Gone were the withered bodies they had inhabited on earth. In the next realm, Harry and Draco both looked like they were twenty-five again.  
  
Ron and Hermione exclaimed together, and Harry was swept up in another joyous reunion. He was passed on to Sirius, then Remus, and then.  
  
Mum? Dad? Harry's breath caught. The pair nodded, and with a glad cry, Harry allowed himself to be folded in their arms for the first time in his memory. From there, he saw Weasleys, and Longbottoms, and Malfoys. Some of his and Draco's first kids'. Lavender and Seamus! He embraced the two Gryffindors. Harry was overwhelmed with joy, and through it all, he did not let go of Draco's hand.  
  
Welcome to the next realm, Harry, Draco said softly that evening. We may not can eat, and we may not sleep, and we're not supposed to feel, but strong emotion overcomes the last constraint. Harry looked sharply at his husband. And I've been waiting sixty years for this orgasm, Draco added devilishly.  
  
By all mean, Draco, show me what you mean, Harry said, and his non-corporeal form became real for a few brief moments, like a twenty-five year old again.  
  
  
  
David Patterson looked up and saw two stars, each twinkling dimly. Funny, he mused, there was only one star there before. As he watched, the two stars grew closer together, then fused. The result was spectacular. There was a crash of lightning, the roar of a dragon, and the resulting star was now the brightest in the sky.   
  
It was renamed, of course. Renamed by a pale third year named Lily Ann. That's Gramps and Draco! she had exclaimed in a rare moment of understanding granted to the inhabitants of Earth. The star's name is Serpens.  
  
And Serpens it was.


End file.
